


School Lunch

by kaz_shirakawa



Category: Calvin & Hobbes
Genre: Backstory, Extortion, Gen, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Non-Graphic Violence, Not Canon Compliant, POV Minor Character, Sad Story, Sad with a Happy Ending, School Cafeteria Food, Stealing, Threats of Violence, Yuletide, Yuletide 2018, Yuletide Treat, children taking care of children, eye dialect, grateful for school cafeteria food, had to grow up too quickly, healthy food makes your brain work better, school lunch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-19 11:26:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17000718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaz_shirakawa/pseuds/kaz_shirakawa
Summary: Why did Moe start threatening to punch Calvin if he doesn't give him money? What does he get out of it?And why does Moe seem so stupid?Here’s the (rather sad) story behind it.His parents were lying on the couch, still in dirty jeans and T-shirts that looked as if they had not been washed in weeks; lying in what looked like an uncomfortable position, just as they must have passed out the night before. There was a little puddle of drool on the back of the couch under his father’s mouth. The plate with the needles on the coffee table in front of them showed what had helped them fall asleep like that.Moe sighed and went into the kitchen to look for something edible for himself and his little sister Tina.





	School Lunch

**Author's Note:**

  * For [oxymora (oxymoron)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oxymoron/gifts).



The alarm clock rang and Moe got up. 

He hoped that his parents would be awake already, as he hoped every morning. Sometimes he was lucky. 

He got dressed quietly, in case they were still asleep, picking up the clothes he had worn yesterday from the pile where he had laid them neatly before going to bed and putting them on. Then he quietly went downstairs into the living room. 

His parents were lying on the couch, still in dirty jeans and T-shirts that looked as if they had not been washed in weeks; lying in what looked like an uncomfortable position, just as they must have passed out the night before. There was a little puddle of drool on the back of the couch under his father’s mouth. The plate with the needles on the coffee table in front of them showed what had helped them fall asleep like that. 

Moe sighed and went into the kitchen to look for something edible for himself and his little sister Tina. 

A quick glance showed him that there was no point looking in the refrigerator, because it was gone. Pawned, no doubt, for some more heroin. It couldn’t have been worth much, since it had come from the junkyard in the first place, but at least it had worked. But for his parents, even ten bucks were worth hocking their devices for when their stash was getting low. Just one more hit was all they thought of then.

He went back into the living room and started to tidy up the empty glasses and empty the ashtray. No beer bottles, unfortunately, so he couldn’t return those for a deposit the way he sometimes did. Whoever had partied with his parents last night must have taken the bottles with them when they had staggered home. 

On one of the dirty plates, there were two pieces of pizza crust left. Moe carefully put them aside. At least Tina would have something for breakfast that day. 

Moe went back upstairs and woke Tina up. 

“Mommy?” she said. 

“Mommy’s asleep, Tina. It’s me, Moe.”

“No Moe. Want Mommy. Tummy hurt,” she said. 

Moe could sympathise; he was feeling hunger pangs as well since he had had nothing to eat the day before. But he was the big brother, he had to be there for his little sister. Together they were all they had. 

He managed to get Tina dressed, then he gave her the pizza crust.

“Eat this,” he said, “and your tummy will feel better.”

She looked at it sceptically, but she knew that if she didn’t eat that, there would be nothing else. She started to chew on them. 

“Where Boxie?” Tina asked. 

Moe looked around Tina’s room until he found the little painted wooden box, with yellow flowers on a red lacquered background. It had belonged to their grandmother once, and she had kept her jewellery in it. The jewellery was long gone, of course; now it held whatever Tina was collecting that week — acorns, bottle tops, pebbles, interesting leaves. Right now it was empty lighters she must have found on the street or on playgrounds — Tina liked looking at the colourful pictures on their sides. 

He handed her the box and told her, “Here’s Boxie. I have to go to school now, but I’ll come right back afterwards and will play with you then.”

“No, Moe, no ’kool. P’ay Nina. P’ay Boxie.”

“I can’t, Tina, I have to go to school. You play with Boxie alone until I come back. Play quietly, okay? Don’t wake Mommy and Daddy. They’re tired.”

“Okay,” Tina said sadly. “Moe ’kool. Nina p’ay Boxie. P’ay quiet.”

“Good girl. I love you.”

He gave Tina a kiss on her little forehead and left to walk to school. 

* * *

First period was maths. Maths was tough enough for Moe on the best of days, but when he had a stomach ache from hunger, it was even harder to concentrate on the sums. He checked the maths problems twice by counting on his fingers, but got a different answer each time, so he just put down the last one he got.

He would get a bad grade on his next quiz again, he knew. Some parents apparently shouted at their children when that happened. He wondered whether to be grateful that his parents mostly ignored him and any grades he brought home.

He thought back to a video the teacher had made them watch in class a few weeks ago. Something about how eating healthy food is important for your brain to be healthy and work well. He remembered that “vej-ta-bulls” were important, and was sure that there weren’t many of those on pepperoni pizza.

He wanted to “do good” in school, because he wanted his own kids later to have a better life in the future than he had now, and though he didn’t understand much of how life worked, he was pretty sure that you had to “do good” at school if you wanted to have money later.

* * *

During the first recess, he looked at some of the children getting little cartons of milk from the milk ladies. He had asked the milk ladies once whether he could have one, too, but the stern old woman with her grey hair tied up in a tight bun told him that no, those were only for children whose parents had signed them up for the school milk programme.

Moe thought about asking his parents to sign him up, too, but his parents were rarely sober for any length of time, and when they were, they usually had other things on their mind than filling out a form for their children’s good. Other things that mostly included how to get high again.

He went outside onto the playground. There he saw the little kid with the spiky hair playing with a lorry in the sandpit, and an idea struck him.

Moe had often seen the little kid buying lunch in the school’s cafeteria, and whether he had brought lunch from home or bought it there, he often ate together with that girl with the short straight hair. They must be friends, he thought. Friends share things with each other, don’t they? So if the little kid didn’t have any food one day, Moe was sure that he could get some from his friend. Not like Moe himself, because nobody wanted to be friends with the kid who wore the same T-shirt every day and spoke slowly and oddly.

Moe walked over to the short kid. “Hey, squirt!” he said.

The little boy looked up. Moe thought about his plan, unsure about whether to go further, but decided that he had to.

“Gimme your lunch money!”

“What?”

“I said, gimme your lunch money! Or… or I’mma punch you!” he added, bringing up his fists before his nose.

The little boy looked back in confusion, but then, seeing those fists at the end of the short, stubby, but muscular arms, he apparently decided that he rather liked having his teeth _inside_ his mouth, and decided not to find out whether the big boy was serious in his threat or not. He dug around in his right pocket and handed over two dollar bills and some change.

Moe pocketed the money, pushed the little kid onto his back in the sandpit and walked away. He wasn’t sure himself why he had shoved the kid like that.

* * *

At lunchtime, Moe went into the cafeteria and joined the queue for the school lunches. He watched the other children to see how that worked. Following their cues, he took a tray from the top of the pile and put some cutlery and a serviette on it.

When he reached the window, one of the school lunch ladies took his tray and put some food into the various compartments: mashed potatoes, peas and carrots, a small piece of mystery meat in some unidentifiable brown sauce, a small carton of chocolate milk, and a slice of tinned peach in a bowl for dessert.

She handed the filled tray back to Moe and he slid it along the metal counter towards the cash register like he saw the other kids do. He paid for his food—his own food! That he didn’t have to share with anybody else if he didn’t want to!—with the money he had got from the little kid on the playground and went in search of a table.

Moe thought of the little kid as he picked up the fork, but again rationalised that he wouldn’t go hungry that day as he could surely get something from the girl with the short hair. Nevertheless, he avoided looking around the cafeteria, in case he actually saw the kid.

He ate slowly and chewed each mouthful thoroughly, because he knew from experience that if he followed his impulse and wolfed the food down, his stomach would hurt worse than if he hadn’t eaten at all. And besides, this way he could properly savour this food that looked nearly fresh. And he was eating two different kinds of “vej-ta-bulls” that day! He was sure that they would make his brain really healthy.

He wondered whether there was any kind of “vej-ta-bull” that was especially good for understanding maths. He kind of hoped there was. He wondered whether they served different food in the cafeteria every day; perhaps if they did, one some days they would give him special maths food.

After he had finished the main course, he took the carton of chocolate milk and opened it. He raised it in a silent toast to the boy whose money had made this school lunch possible to Moe, then he drank it slowly and carefully.

Finally, he pulled the bowl of tinned peach towards him. He drank the syrup from the bowl but decided not to give the peach slice itself more than just a tiny nibble. Instead, he pulled a dirty cotton handkerchief out of his pocket and wrapped the peach slice in it before stuffing it back into his pocket. He would give it to Tina that afternoon when he got back home.

With a good square meal in his stomach, Moe felt ready to take on the world! Or at least that afternoon’s classes and his homework in the evening.


End file.
